


Discovered

by orphan_account



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Bunker Sex, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humour, but it leads to funny or cute moments, embarrassement, it's gonna be fun, no one enjoy being discovered during an embarrassing moment, tags will be updated with new chapters, using a bow is hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-03 17:28:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15823593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Everyone has those moments. Moments alone or someone else, special moments that would be embarrassing before anyone else. The trouble is, when you have those moments in the bunker, the risks of having someone walking in on you are hight.1. Rest night2. The Art of Archery (aka Quentin has always wanted to try to use a bow)3. Stuck (aka Curtis is doubting and Rene is helpful)





	1. Rest Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity are in the middle of something when the team walks on them.  
> Season 6

It was supposed to be a rest night. During the last month, the team had stopped enough criminals for Oliver to decide that they all deserved a peaceful evening. Thus, home was the place where he and Felicity were supposed to be, instead of the bunker. But William was spending the night at a friend’s, and Felicity had insisted on taking the opportunity of having the bunker for themselves to test the improvements she had made on Oliver’s weapons.

A few explosive arrows and a bottle of wine—there was always a few bottles of wine in the garage—later, they had found themselves lying face to face on the mats, their clothes discarded across the bunker, thrown away on various desks, computers or stairs. Neither of them knew how long they had been down there, and neither of them cared. The thick blanket—the one they used when one of the team ended up injured after a fight—was now the only layer protecting their naked bodies from the chill air of the room.

“I remember the first time we did it here,“ Felicity said softly. Her shining eyes were lost in Oliver’s. She was stroking his cheek with her left hand, the other one being clasped in his. He chuckled at the memory.

“I remember all the other times,“ he murmured. He took the hand that was on his cheek and pressed it on his lips, leaving a trail of kisses from Felicity’s wrist to her shoulder. She smelled like lavender and summer nights.

She inhaled sharply when he continued up her neck, and her hands clutched his shoulders as his passed through her soft hair and behind her lower back. Her lips were slightly parted, and a golden lock was running down her forehead and across her face. She smiled at Oliver when he looked at her, and moved closer to join their lips. He deepened the kiss. His hands now on each side of Felicity, he pushed himself above her smaller form. A line of red spots were lingering on her skin. His heart raced when their eyes met, and he wondered for the hundredth time what forces had made him so lucky.

“I love you, Felicity Smoak,“ he said with a low voice.

“And I you, Oliver Queen,“ she replied, putting her hands on his torso. Warmth flooded his body and a shiver ran down his spine, like it always did when she uttered those kind of words. The outside world stopped existing. The Green Arrow, the nightmares, the mission. None of it mattered anymore.

Felicity pushed herself up to drop another kiss on his lips. Her hands slid down to his stomach. She was passing over each one of his scars—she knew them all. She always started with the one on his shoulder, tracing its outlines before stroking Ras’ blade scar with the tip of her fingers. Then, her hands would move to his back and follow the long lines made by the whip to the burn of his lower back. When they broke apart, he began a new trail of bites and strokes on her other shoulder, and beamed when she sighted in content. Which was probably why he didn’t react immediately when he felt her freeze under him.

“Oliver,“ she said with a strained voice when he didn’t stop. He rose his head with a frown. She was looking at something above his shoulder, toward the computer area. Her face had gone pale, but a deep red flush was slowly colouring it.

“Wha—“ Oliver began when someone cleared their throat behind him. He froze. Taking care of not dislodging the blanket—the only thing covering their bodies—he turned around slowly to discover a vision that, in this particular case, filled him with dread.

Above them, in the computer area, under the harsh lights of the neons, were standing Rene, Quentin and Thea. Given their wide eyes and open mouths, they were as surprised to see them here as they both were to see them. Feeling Felicity move next to him, he turned his head and watched her disappear under the blanket. His own stomach seemed to have buried itself six feet under the earth. When he looked back up at the three new-comers, none of them had moved.

In fact, Oliver kept looking from Felicity hidden under the blanket to the three others and back again until the elevator doors opened with an echoing _ding_ to reveal John and Curtis. They took two steps into the room before noticing the bewildered faces of Rene and Thea, and Quentin’s horrified expression. 

“What’s happening?“ Diggle asked, his hand instinctively going for his gun. Curtis sniffed loudly.

“And why does it smells like sweat so much?“ he asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Did one of you spent the evening training or something?“ Rene snorted.

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it,“ he said, pointing at the couple. Turning their heads toward the culprit, the two men reacted in two entirely different ways.

John blinked—once, twice, thrice—before staring at his friend with wide eyes, his mouth agape and his hand still on the gun’s handle. Curtis took the scene calmly at first, even smirked a little, before his face distorted into a grimace.

“I train there!“ he exclaimed, pressing his hands on his stomach. “We all train there. Oh my god, do you know—Do you have any _idea_ of how much cleaning it’s going to take before I can put a foot on those mats? Wait, have you done it here before? Have we all trained in the same places you have—you have—“ unable to express himself with words, he waved his hands toward the couple. “I feel so unclean right now. I need a shower. I need three showers. And disinfectant. We train on those mats, you know!“

“Gross,“ Rene muttered, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“Curtis, you’re overreacting,“ Oliver said, trying to defuse the situation. “What are you guys doing here anyway?“ He tried to ignore his burning ears and the fact that he was lying, naked, with a thin blanket covering his mid-section only, next to Felicity, naked as well and hidden under the rest of the blanket, on the training mats of the bunker, under the incredulous stares of his friends, teammates and sister.

“I think the question is what are _you_ doing here,“ Thea replied. The first shock passed, she had a smirk on her face and seemed to have decided to enjoy the moment as much as she could.

“That’s pretty clear,“ Quentin breathed out, rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but toward them. Oliver coughed.

“Felicity wanted to try some new arrows,“ he explained, only realising what he had said when a hight-pitched whine rose from under the blanket.

“Oh, so _that’s_  how the kids call it those days, uh?“ Rene said. A small smirk, not unlike Thea’s, was on his lips.

“What’s happening?“ Oliver insisted, ignoring them and looking at John, the only one who seemed to have kept his head on earth. “It was supposed to be a night-off.“

“Thea, Quentin, Dinah and Rene were at City Hall when reports of a new gang selling guns around the city arrived,“ John said, staring at a spot above Oliver’s head. “Dinah went to the police station to get more informations, and the rest of us came here to work on the security cameras and hit the streets. You probably have received Rene’s text.“ Oliver glanced around but couldn’t find his nor Felicity’s phone.

“Is that what you’re looking for?“ Thea said, her voice full of malice. She had a phone in one hand and Felicity’s top in the other. Oliver pulled a face.

“Could you—Er—Could you all leave for a few minutes, just so we can—Er—“ he stammered, to Rene and Thea’s delectation. He would exchange this situation with any fight against any criminal he had stopped since coming back to Star City.

“Leave so that you and Felicity can make yourself more presentable?“ Thea finished. Oliver closed his eyes and nodded.

“That’s not gonna be a problem,“ he heard Quentin said. “I’m going to need a night of sleep and a lot of coffee before stopping to see this picture each time I close my eyes.“

When Oliver opened his eyes again, Quentin was pulling Thea and Rene toward the elevator. He waited until the sound of footsteps had died and was replaced by the rumble of the elevator before turning toward Felicity.

“Felicity? We’re alone,“ he said with a calm voice. “You can come out now.“ Two hands appeared from under the blanket, and pushed it down slightly, just enough to let her eyes out.

“You’re sure?“ she whispered. He looked around again before nodding with certainty. “Good.“ She jumped on her feet and started to search for her clothes. “I can create us new identities in just a few minutes. I’ll do the details later. We’ll just have to sneak out without them seeing us and start a new life in Europe. I’ve always wanted to go to France.“

“Felicity—“ Oliver said. He was still lying down, an amused grin on his face. She was reacting exactly how he had predicted.

“Curtis will never let this die, I know it,“ she continued. “And if he learns all the other places we did it, he’ll—“ Oliver let her voice wash over him like a lazy wave on the sand. It was enough to calm him down, to help him think clearly. He dressed up as well and, once they were both ‘presentable’, took Felicity in his arms until her ramble stopped. She was bumping her head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Felicity.“

“Our friends have just walked on us having bunker sex,“ she replied. “It is _not_ okay.“

They stayed in each other’s arms until the elevator was heard again, a few minutes later. Felicity sprung into action before the doors began to open, and had buried herself in her computers when the team entered. Oliver, who couldn’t use the same distraction, leaned back against a desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Where’s Quentin?“ he asked when the older man didn’t appear.

“Went back to City Hall,“ Rene answered. “Said he needed time before coming back here.“ Felicity’s fingers tripped on the keyboard.

“Right,“ Oliver muttered before loudly clasping his hands together. In those cases, he decided, the best solution was to run away. “So what are we looking for?“

“Wow, stop there,“ Thea exclaimed. “Are we really not going to talk about what just happened?“

“I wouldn’t mind if we never mentioned it again,“ John said. “Ever again.“

“No, I actually want to know,“ Curtis insisted. “Because if you’ve had sex in here before, I need to disinfect this whole place. And use black light. And showers.“ Oliver sighted.

“Curtis, you really don’t want to know the answer.“

* * *

This episode was never mentioned again until a few months later at Oliver and Felicity’s wedding.

Rene had taken precautions. _Lots_ of precautions. He had made back copies on three different flash-drives and hidden three printed versions in his apartment. Felicity’s blush, when the picture of her and Oliver under the blanket in the bunker among other pictures of the couple with their friends and family, was memorable.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! I have a few interesting ideas for the next ones, it's gonna be fun.  
> Trekking-in-a-tardis on tumblr.  
> 


	2. The Art of Archery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin tries to use a bow.  
> Season 5.

The bunker was empty when Quentin arrived. New informations about ‘Crystal’, the new drug plaguing Star City, had come out and, as Oliver & Co wouldn’t answer their phones, he had decided to pay them a visit.

The suitless mannequins and the Felicity’s absence were enough clues to guess that the team was breaking into some big corporation building so that their personal hacker could perform her magic. Quentin sighed. A few years ago, he would have tried anything to stop this. Nowadays, he was dancing around the line between law and crime. Big measures for big problems, right?

As it was already late and he had nowhere else to be, Quentin chose to wait for them. He sat at a table, near the armoury. A long crack was running on it, most likely a result of someone’s violent outburst. The desk chair in the computer area would have been far more comfortable, but it didn’t feel right to be there without Felicity. It felt as if Quentin was invading her private place.

Around him, lines of guns were displayed on various shelves. Dozens of arrows, cartridges and blades were shining under the neon lights. There was enough weapons to arm a small army. On the floor, a spare bow was resting in its open case.

Quentin's eyes lingered on it before looking away with guilt.

When the Hood had appeared for the first time, using a bow and arrows, Quentin had found that stupid. What could arrows do that bullets or bombs couldn’t? As it had turned out, a _lot_. Besides, there was a sort of art in the way archers held their bows that was rarely seen with guns—albeit he had only seen accomplished archers and didn’t have the first idea of what beginners looked like. It was as if the bow was a mere extension of their bodies, used as effortlessly as if it was a mere toy.

He glanced at the bow again.

The bunker was empty. It was a rare opportunity to try it. Should he? Shouldn’t he?

“What the hell,“ he muttered after five minutes of sideway glances toward the bow. He took it in his hands and turned toward the training targets. It was heavier than he had imagined. Placing an arrow correctly turned out to be an exercise of agility, and keeping it in place was hard for his fingers and wrists. The cord was rigid and difficult to pull, and he couldn’t stop shaking as he aimed—he didn’t have as much strength as he used to. He breathed deeply, as he had learned to do with a gun.

He let the cord go.

The arrow fell on the ground five feet in front of him.

Quentin had never been more glad to be alone in his entire life.

He picked up the arrow and tried again, making sure to let the cord go in one go. This time, the arrow went up toward the ceiling, right into a neon light that shattered into a rain of shards.

The second one banged on a wall and landed on the training mats.

The third one flew toward the mannequins, broke a window and stopped where Spartan’s helmet should have been.

The fourth one would probably have caused some more damages, had it been shot. But, as he was taking the next arrow, Quentin heard voices coming from the garage. Looking at the destruction around him, he hurriedly put the bow back in its case and searched desperately for an explanation. Time was lacking to gather and hide all the arrows. He had to find something, and quickly.

When the team emerged from the garage—Oliver and Felicity first, talking to each other in low voices, followed by Dinah and John and, at last, Curtis and Rene, the two of them bickering like schoolboys—Quentin was fidgeting on his feet, near the nearly destroyed armoury.

Oliver smiled when he saw Quentin, and was about to greet him when he took in the state of the bunker. He reacted immediately, pushing Felicity behind him and placing an arrow on his bow. The rest of the team had done the same, taking their guns and others weapons out and ready.

“It’s alright,“ Quentin said, holding his hands up peacefully, before the others could ask anything. He rubbed the back of his neck, nervously looking at the team.

“What happened?“ Oliver asked without lowering his bow.

“It’s—Er—“ Quentin muttered. “It’s complicated.“

“Quentin?“ Felicity said with a worried frown. “Are you alright?“ She had a tablet in her hands. He had guessed correctly; they had been breaking into some building. Behind her, Curtis caught the two balls he had sent around the bunker. They blinked a few times, illuminating his face with their soft blue lights.

“There's no threat,“ Curtis announced. John, Dinah and Rene tucked their weapons away but Oliver only lowered his bow, keeping it armed and ready to be used. Felicity put a hand on his shoulder, an attempt to calm him down. With all the Prometheus business, the archer’s paranoia had skyrocketed.

“What happened?“ he repeated.

Quentin sighed. There was no way out of it.

“I—“ he coughed—“ I tried to use a bow.“

The reactions were various: Rene’s eyebrows shot up in an incredulous expression, John looked at Quentin as if he was seeing him for the first time, Dinah snorted, Curtis smirked, Felicity coughed to hide her laugh and Oliver—Oliver frowned.

“You what?“ he said, finally putting the arrow back in his quiver. Quentin pointed at the spare bow he had used.

“I tried to use a bow. I’ve always been curious since, you know, since you’ve been running ‘round the city with it.“ John looked at the arrow that had pierced his mannequins.

“Glad you didn’t try while we were in here,“ he said before heading toward the mannequin and taking the arrow out.

“Sorry about that,“ Quentin said. To his relief, the team scattered around the bunker and no one made any illusion to what had happened—except Rene, obviously. There would be many snide remarks and double-meaning jokes at City Hal during the next few weeks.

he rest of the night was spent finding more informations about the drug and preparing a plan of attack. After two hours of discussions, Quentin was about to leave and go home when Oliver called him and took him in an empty part of the bunker.

“Look, Oliver, I’m sorry about the bow,“ Quentin said before the younger man could speak. “I shouldn’t hav—“

“Don’t worry,“ Oliver stopped him. “I just wanted to say that, if you want, I can give you lessons. Archery takes years to master, but it’s never too late to start.“ Quentin nodded, more from surprise than in agreement. He turned away and left.

It was only once he was before his flat’s door that the implications of what had happened bloomed in his mind. A rictus flashed on his lips. He had agreed to let Oliver teach him how to use a bow. He had seen how Oliver trained his recruits. With harsh—although necessary to stay alive—exercises.

He would never survive it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely satisfied with this one but I couldn't change it anymore without ripping my head off so here we go. I'll probably make so changes in the future but I'll put the updates in the notes.


	3. Stuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curtis doing push-ups leads to a confession and a bonding moment between two friends.  
> Season 5

Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourte— No, he couldn’t do it. Curtis collapsed before finishing his fourteenth push-up, the last exercise of his session—which had begun more than a hour ago.

His feet were propped up on a small stool, his whole body stretched out above the floor, and his elbows painfully digging into the training mats. The strain in his arms had gotten stronger during the last four or five minutes, but he had thought—hoped—that he could finish the serie before taking a well deserved shower.

Two push-ups. That’s all it would have taken to finish and go home. But, no matter how much he tried, days after days, weeks after weeks, his arms couldn’t keep going. He could never fully finish the last exercise, whether it was push-ups, barbell or pull-ups.

A sharp pain erupted in the middle of his back as it bent awkwardly **.** With horror, Curtis realised he couldn’t move without hurting himself more. He was stuck. He tried to lower his shoulder to alleviate the pain, but it had the opposite effect.

Curtis clenched his jaw to keep the yell of pain from passing his lips. His eyes were fixed on the mat, a few centimetres under his face. All he could think about was his burning muscles. He could see his arms shaking out of the corner of his eyes. In a few minutes, they would give out, he would collapse and his back would burst in agony.

* * *

Rene couldn’t stay still. He pressed the button three more times, as if it would make the elevator faster. At last, the doors opened and he bolted in the bunker, heading directly toward his target. He wondered briefly why the lights were turned on—there wasn’t supposed to be anyone in here at that time of the day—but put it on one of them forgetting to turn them off before leaving last night—very early this morning, to be more accurate.

He passed the armoury and rushed toward the mannequins. He had left some papers—important papers, according to Quentin—in his suit—he didn’t even remember why he had thought it was a good idea to put them there—and Quentin had threatened to fire him if ‘his ass wasn’t back with those papers before the meeting with Star City’s biggest investors’.

Although Rene doubted Quentin would really fire him, he didn’t want to disappoint the older man and hurried to get the whole thing done. He had found the papers and was about to leave when the sound of a heavy breathing reached his ears.

He froze and looked around.

The bunker was empty, or that’s what he thought, at first. But, after moving around the computer area, he spotted Curtis on the training mats. He was on his elbows, doing push-ups.

“Curtis?“ A groan answered Rene. He took a few steps toward his friend. Curtis’ face was contorted in a deep frown, his lips pressed tightly together and his eyes squeezed shut. A tremor was running up and down his arms. “Curtis, you alright?“

Another groan. Without loosing time now that he understood the situation, Rene dropped on his knees and passed an arm under Curtis’ shoulders.

“Put your legs down, I’ve got you,“ he said. Curtis put his feet on the floor cautiously, one after the other, and exhaled slowly. He waited a few more seconds before breaking free from Rene’s help and sitting, his back on the wall, eyes staring at the ceiling, rubbing his arms vigorously to chase the pain. He never once looked at Rene.

“Thank’s,“ he muttered nonetheless, his eyes moving from the ceiling to his feet. Rene, who had stayed on his knees, took in the slumped shoulders and uncharacteristic silence. He grabbed a bottle of water in the mini-fridge—they always had a huge stock of bottles of water and icepacks in it—and sat near Curtis.

“You don’t want to have cramps,“ he said, handing him the bottle. Curtis took it with a small ‘thank you’ and drank half of it in one go before coughing his lungs out. Rene tried to hide his amused smirk.

“What are you doing here anyway?“ Curtis asked once he could breath again. Rene tilted his head toward the suits.

“I had forgotten some papers in my suit and Quentin threatened to strangle me if I didn’t bring them back in time for a meeting. You?“

“I have the afternoon off. I wanted to—“ His voice trailed off as the frown returned to his face. “Wait, you put office papers in your suit? You put office papers in your superhero suit? What if it fell? What if someone found it and—“

“Curtis, calm down. Jeez. I won’t do it again, okay? Quentin already made it clear what a stupid idea it was.“ Curtis raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“You take down drug dealers and fight meta-humans but you’re terrified of our Deputy Mayor, aren’t you?“

“Don’t judge me,“ Rene grumbled.

They fell in a comfortable silence. Curtis had his eyes closed and was breathing slowly, taking occasional gulps of water. Rene was glancing at him discretely. The defeated look the other man had on his face made him uncomfortable at the idea of leaving himalone at the moment. Yet, the papers were heavy in his pocket. He couldn’t—didn’t want to—let Quentin down. Thus, Rene was debating what to do when Curtis spoke.

“I shouldn’t be here,“ he murmured, catching Rene by surprise. His eyes were jumping from the armoury, to the computer area, to the suits and all around the bunker.“I don’t have experience or training. I’m a bad fighter, and even worst with guns. I don’t bring anything to the team that Oliver, Dig, Dinah or you don’t already have. Felicity’s an amazing overwatch. Star Lab is the best tech support the team could dream of.“ He sighed. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m more of a burden than anything else.“ He paused. “I should quit.“

Rene stayed silent for a moment, taking in what his friend had just said. He realised, with a pang of sadness, that it must have been on Curtis’ heart for weeks.

“Do you want to be here?“ Rene asked eventually. “Just answer,“ he insisted when he saw Curtis was about to discuss the question. “Do you want to be here?“

“Yes,“ Curtis said without having to think about it.

“Then, you should be,“ Rene stated. “Oliver wasn’t born with a bow in his hands. I couldn’t properly use a gun until two years ago. Dinah has years of active duty and less official duties behind her. Dig was in the army. Felicity’s—Well, Felicity is Felicity ‘cause I really don’t understand what you and her do with those computers but you get it. We all have different backgrounds. That’s what gives us strength, man! Cuz we all bring something different to the game. And we all learn and acquire skills because we need to, and sometimes it takes more time than we’d like, or we start learning later than others. There’s nothing wrong with that. I can’t use a bow, I don’t understand shit about what Felicity does, I don’t have relations in ARGUS or the FBI or the police. You have skills that none of us have. Man, I’d be dead ten times already if it wasn’t for you! Felicity’s would be walking if it wasn’t for you. So yeah, maybe you don’t fight as well as we do, doesn’t matter. You’ll train. You’ll progress. I’m here to help. We all are. That’s what teammates do. They help each other. Besides, Oliver would never have let you out in the field if he thought you weren’t ready.“

Curtis shook his head.

“You don’t understand, Rene,“ he said, raising his voice and clenching and unclenching his fist. “You’re… you. You can fight and protect yourself. But each time I’ve managed to put someone down, it was more thank’s to luck than thank’s to me. You could end up hurt or dead because of me. You, or Dinah, or Dig, or Oliver.“ He sighed. “I can’t even do push-ups without hurting myself.“

“It’s our choice to be out in the field with you,“ Rene said as he stood up and held out a hand to Curtis. He stared right into his friend’s eyes. “I don’t believe in luck, I believe in you.“

His words must have reached Curtis, because he took the hand Rene held out and stood up as well.

“You believe in me more than I believe in me,“ he muttered, heading toward the showers. “You should go before you end up being fired,“ he continued louder. “We both know Oliver won’t save you if Lance decides to kill you.“

Rene gave a small laugh but didn’t follow the advice. Instead, he watched Curtis disappear in the bathroom and, once alone, took out his phone to call Quentin. The discussion was short and he kept his voice low, in case Curtis could still hear him. The matter settled, he sat on the stairs of the computer area and waited.

When Curtis came back, fifteen minutes later, Rene hadn’t moved. He had almost finished a training plan adapted to Curtis and was putting his ideas on paper—on the blank verso of one of those very important papers, it should be added.

“You’re still here,“ Curtis exclaimed when he saw him, jostling Rene out of his thoughts. He quickly put the paper away, deciding to wait a few days before talking about it to Curtis.

“Yeah, I’m not leaving you alone,“ he answered. “Lance loves me too much to kill me. And he has a copy of every important papers in case something like this happens. The only reason he wanted me to come and take them is ‘cause he doesn’t know how to use the printer and refuses to admit it.“ He yawned and passed a hand over his stomach. “Come on, it’s time for some Big Belly Burger.“

“What?“ Curtis exclaimed, glancing at his watch in confusion. “It’s only three in the afternoon.“

“Exactly.“

 

 


End file.
